


Cuss Words & Poetry

by FrazzledSquidz



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Casual Sex, Developing Relationship, Explicit Language, M/M, Multiple Partners, Original Fiction, Past Drug Addiction, Piercings, Recovery, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-12 01:16:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrazzledSquidz/pseuds/FrazzledSquidz
Summary: "People will always disappoint you," Maya had told me once, years ago when we'd met at the youth shelter. I had rejected the notion, finding it bleak and pessimistic.Except the older I got, the more it rang true.





	1. Chapter 1

**PROLOGUE- Winter of 2017**

Possibly the only thing worse than realizing you were into your best friend is eventually telling him and then finding out you actually didn't know him at all. Though it could, arguably, get worse if after all of that your self-destructive tendencies reared their ugly heads and you wound up breaking all of your promises and spending Christmas in the one place you swore you'd never be again. For example.

“You'll be alright,” Zeke told me quietly from the driver's seat, even though he was unable to meet my eyes.

I stared out the windshield at the ugly adobe building in front of us, trying to figure out if I should hate myself or my situation more. Or if I should hate Alex, my supposed best friend who spent our entire friendship lying to me. Though, in all honesty, the lies-by-omission hurt me the most because they made me feel like a shitty person, like I couldn't be trusted with the truth. Was I that much of an asshole? 

But also honestly, beyond the physical pain of withdrawal, I felt empty inside. Even though I hated that I'd relapsed, that I'd disappointed Zeke and even that I couldn't bring myself to talk to Alex, overall I just felt hollowed-out. Scraped raw. Logically I knew that this was a part of recovery, but emotionally I was bitterly upset that I had relapsed, that in a moment my days went from 603 right back down to 0. 

“And now I’m back in this shithole,” I mumbled, taking a deep drag from my cigarette. 

“Raz.” Now my brother was staring at me. We didn't look super similar except for our eyes; they were exactly the same. “You got this. I believe in you, man.” 

I returned my gaze to the windshield, my right knee bouncing rapidly. “Cut that sappy shit.” 

“Shut up,” he told me easily. “And get out of my car. Call me when you're all settled, okay?”

I sighed, but pushed at the car door, grabbing my backpack of belongings on my way out. There was nothing else to do; I'd dug my grave and had climbed in it and had even covered myself with dirt, so now I had to figure out how to get out again. I turned to shut the door, but looked inside at Zeke before I did. 

“Never give up,” he told me seriously, even though he was smiling. 

I couldn't help but smile exhaustedly back at him. “Never surrender,” I replied, completing the phrase we said to each other in place of 'I love you.’ 

I pushed his passenger door shut and walked up to the entrance, sucking down the very last of my smoke as I did so. I stuffed the butt into the ashtray before pushing the buzzer, staring at the metal door covered in signage for the intake process. It unlocked with a heavy banging sound and I pulled it open, feeling the heat of the building greet me. 

Day one.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART ONE- Fall of 2017**

For some godawful reason my parents named me Erasmus, so obviously I go by Raz. My second year of college was going great so far, in that I had lost track of time smoking and drawing outside and was now late to my biology class. 

I scooted into the classroom five minutes late, avoiding the professor’s flat stare in favor of finding my best friend and claiming the seat beside him. He glanced over at me with raised eyebrows, and I knew he was wondering how the hell I could be late to class when I had been on campus for hours already. I elbowed him as I set down my notebook and a fistful of pens, honestly trying to make as little noise as possible and failing. He looked away, fighting a grin. 

His name was Alejandro Santiago Martinez. I called him Alex. 

We’d met at the Santa Fe Community College our first semester. We’d had the same math and english classes, though it took us awhile to actually talk to each other. Truth be told, Alex didn't like people all that much, so if I hadn't started sitting next to him and bugging him for notes and to copy his homework we probably would have never wound up talking. 

But I had and I basically forced him to hang out with me in return for using him to help me pass class and then we actually got along and then had most of our second semester classes together and so we wound up becoming friends. Long story short. 

Alex was… weird, which was probably why I liked him so much. I hate _boring_ and, though he wasn’t always a big talker, Alex was anything but dull. He was unique in that he genuinely did not give a single fuck what other people thought about him. He had no interest in pleasing others or even being polite; he just did what he wanted. But he wasn’t, like, a dick about it, you know? Alex just did his own thing. 

A lot of people thought he was an ass, though, probably because of how he looked. He was dark-skinned with sharp cheekbones and tended to dress all in black. He was tall and skinny and always wore this stupid beanie because he was trying to grow out his mohawk, and it tended to hang right above his thick eyebrows. Both of his ears were gauged up to an inch and he had a snakebite piercing; two little spikes that poked out either side of his bottom lip. 

So he looked like a badass, right? But Alex spent all of his time reading and writing and straight up ignoring other people because he had social anxiety like a motherfucker. These things made him look like a stuck-up hipster but he was just super awkward. When I started talking to him I had to keep reminding myself that a guy that looked like that had to have some kind of wicked personality in there somewhere, but damn did he hide it deep. 

Why had I tried so hard with such a weirdo anyway? Well I’d burned a lot (okay most) of my bridges and friendships at the end of my senior year in high school. (Actually I never finished traditional high school and had to get my GED, but whatever.) The summer of 2016 had found me sober and without friends or any bright ideas, which was why I wound up signing up for classes at the community college in the first place. When I saw Alex I knew he’d be different than the shitheads I’d been hanging out with before, so I went for it. 

Also he was super smart and helped me pass my classes. _Also_ it turned out that he liked bud, so in exchange for him driving my ass to and from the college and copying his work every now and then I supplied him with as much weed as he wanted. I got plenty from the dispensary and old connections, so it was a sweet deal for both of us. 

“Erasmus Chavez,” called the biology professor, looking around the room. 

I winced a little. “Raz,” I corrected, waving at her. She gave me an unimpressed look and carried on with attendance while I went back to my art. I liked to doodle more than I liked paying attention in class, plus I was working on this sick piece that was a huge flower but had mushrooms and other trippy plants in the petals. I had drawn it with permanent marker yesterday and today I was coloring it all in. It probably wasn’t the best way to spend the first day of class but I didn’t give a fuck about biology anyway. 

I really didn’t care about school and probably would have dropped out after my first year if it hadn’t been for Alex and my brother, Zeke. (From Ezekiel. Our parents were the worst.) It just didn’t seem to apply to real life at all, you know? But I was working as a cashier at Target and didn’t want to be stuck doing that for the rest of my life, so I thought I could see if anything interested me at the college. Nothing had stuck so far, but I was at least showing up. Usually.

Alex, though: he gave a fuck. I was a little unclear about his home life, but I figured it wasn’t very good and he was trying to move himself up in the world. He was interested in medicine but kept telling me he wasn’t smart enough to get into the nursing program. I’d tell him he was the smartest person I knew and he’d reply that that really wasn’t saying much. Rude. 

Absently I could hear the professor talking about the meaning of biology as the study of life and stuff, but I didn’t bother to write anything down. To my left I could see Alex scribbling away, copying down the notes on the board. His handwriting was such an embarrassment, I swear. I had drawn this loopy cat with stars for eyes and was coloring it purple and that was way more interesting that trying to categorize life forms or whatever.

I tuned in and out of the lecture over the next hour and a half, not even looking up from my notebook. Eventually 11:30 came around and the prof dismissed us. I shut my book and shoved my pens into the bag I used to carry them around in. “Lunch?” I asked Alex, looking over at him. 

“Hell yes,” he replied, sliding his book and notebook into his backpack with care. He was one of those guys who was always hungry. Sometimes he would claim he was starving even _while_ he was eating. “That’s cool, what you’re working on.”

I flipped open my notebook to give him a better look as we merged into the hall. “Thanks man. I was up most of the night finishing the design.”

“You work today?”

“Nah, not until Thursday. Wanna blaze it? Watch some of that fucked up show again?”

“Let’s do it.”

My parents weren’t in the picture, hadn’t been for years, but I lived with Zeke in this little place at the Sunset Mobile Home Park. The one good thing my mom had done before she'd dipped was cosign the trailer to my brother (who had just turned 18). She’d said it was for emergencies but as soon as part of it was in his name she'd stopped making payments. Fucking typical. Zeke worked nights at Smith’s restocking. It paid okay and they didn’t care that he was always picking up overtime, so it worked out. The bummer was I didn’t get to see him hardly ever, but it left the house free for me and Alex to kick it basically whenever we wanted. 

Alex had a job, too, helping out at some car repair shop. He usually worked all weekend but every now and then he’d pick up an evening shift. I guess he’d gotten the job through some friend of the family or something. It paid better than Target and I kept telling him to hook me up but I guess you have to actually know something about cars first. 

We joined the line for hot food and I was jazzed to see it was enchiladas. Our school had like this crazy good chef program and those guys got to get some experience by working in the cafeteria and we got legit meals. They had a breakfast stand on Fridays and a taco truck on Wednesdays and all this other shit I was always just learning about. No lie, the food was a big reason I ever showed up for my classes. That and Alex always picked my ass up. 

I ordered for us while Alex went around and grabbed a bunch of chips and drinks and desserts. Lunch was always a feast with us. We wound up with two plates of chicken enchiladas (green chile), a couple of bags of Sun Chips, some cookies and Rice Krispie treats, and a couple of bottles of Coke. Honestly most of my Target paycheck went to our lunches, but they were dope. 

“Were you in Burque this weekend?” Alex asked me as we tucked into our food.

I nodded, too busy inhaling chicken and tortilla and spicy sauce to say anything else. I tried to spend at least one night a week in Albuquerque, though sometimes I stayed up in Santa Fe. I was pretty slutty (okay, _sexually active_ ) but there weren’t a ton of young people in Santa Fe for one reason or another. Everyone partied in Burque so, even though I didn’t actually party anymore, I could usually find someone to hook up with. I was lucky I was bisexual and not extremely picky. Basically if the person was down, I was down no matter the size, shape, color, whatever. I loved sex. 

I’d spent the weekend in bed with this fly woman who was in pre-med at UNM. She’d told me she was nervous for the beginning of the semester so I offered to take her mind off things. I don’t mean to brag, but I think I did a damn good job. I caught the train back up to Santa Fe with no regrets, let me just say. 

“I’m guessing you worked all weekend?” I asked Alex, who was allergic to most kinds of fun. 

He shrugged. “Financial aid doesn’t come in for a few more weeks. Gotta have some cash.”

“Work on anything cool?” Northern New Mexico had hella lowriders and sometimes Alex got to get up in one. 

“Just junkers.” He scooped the last of his enchilada in his mouth and slammed half a Coke. He grabbed a bag of cheddar Sun Chips and started snacking right after. “What’s your next class?”

“Fucking history. You?”

“Algebra. I thought you were taking it with me?”

“Am I? Shit.” I pulled out my phone and tried to hop onto the school’s shitty wifi. The campus was pretty removed from town so service was hard to come by. Eventually it decided to connect and I pulled up my class schedule for this semester. “I have algebra tomorrow, bro.”

He tsked at me. “Change it. Just come to class with me today and steal a seat. You know some poor bastard isn’t going to show up.” 

“Cool.” There was no way I’d pass algebra without Alex anyway. I would just tell the professor that I had signed up for his section and was he sure I wasn’t on his roster because this is the only time that works for me and I really wanted to take his class… It was a community college. No fucks were given. 

After we polished off most of our feast we went outside where I could smoke and Alex could pretend he was a lizard. 

“What are you trying to do, again?” I asked as he lay in the grass and I sat within the shade of a tree like a normal human being. He told me this joke all the time, but I always forgot the word. I pulled out a cigarette and lit up, loving the taste of a Marlboro Red after eating. 

“Photosynthesize,” he murmured, closing his eyes and tilting his head up towards the sun.

Right, the plant thing. I sucked a long drag from my cigarette, trying to get it to the bottom of my lungs, before exhaling it all up into the air. I loved smoking. And Alex was a fucking nerd who loved reading, which is why he knew bigger words. And how to spell them, even. 

Alex reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, squinting up at it for a moment before music started playing. He lay his phone between us, closing his eyes again.

Rage Against the Machine started up. It was the one band we could agree on.

I glanced down at him, feeling warm and happy and… good. My days were up and down, but this was a good up day. I’d had a great weekend, was working on some cool shit, ate some choice food, and now I was smoking out in the warm weather with my best friend. Not too bad at all. 

The girl I’d been with over the weekend, her name was Steph. She’d kept me around Saturday and Sunday and we just ate and smoked and fucked and slept which are, like, all of my favorite activities right there. I definitely wouldn’t mind hooking up with her again. She’d had curves for days and her skin had been as dark as Alex’s. 

I looked over at him, smoking lazily, as he stretched his arms up and crossed them behind his head comfortably, flashing the intricate black tattoos he had on his biceps. They were cool as shit; much better than the juvie stick-n-pokes that were scattered on my arms and chest. One day I’d get them covered up with something legit, but at least now they kind of hid the track marks. Not that I was embarrassed, but I didn’t like people sticking their noses in my business. 

Alex’s face was smooth and he looked like he was going to fall asleep any minute. He must have been roasting in the sun, as dark as he was and dressed in all black. He had on black boots, black jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and his usual beanie which was actually dark gray but may as well have been black. His mohawk had been pretty long before. The tail of it actually hung down a little, just touching the back of his neck. I’d offer to clean him up again soon. 

As I brought my cigarette to my lips my eyes focused on his, on the two piercings that stuck through his lower one. They were tiny black studs, sometimes mistaken for moles. I knew he had a barbell through his tongue, too. I loved kissing people with piercings in their mouths. And, because I was a twenty year-old male, my brain jumped right to how it might feel to kiss Alex.

That little something tugged in my belly right away, surprising me. Yeah I had kind of a high sex-drive, but I hadn’t ever thought about kissing Alex before. Okay, not seriously. I wasn’t blind; the dude was hot. But he was also basically my only friend. But wouldn’t it be nice if I had another casual hook-up in Santa Fe instead of having to go all the way to Albuquerque for the good stuff? And I knew Alex would be good in bed. He just had that look about him. 

I blinked and looked away. What the fuck was wrong with me? I didn’t even know if Alex went for guys or girls. But then I was thinking about my hands around his ribs and that tongue with its barbell in my mouth and how his face would go all slack in pleasure…

His phone beeped at him, making us both twitch. Alex was just a flinchy person and I was currently a guilty one. He rolled over and silenced the alarm that told him we had a class to attend. I brought up my smoke to finish it off, but it had burnt itself out halfway down the filter.  
\--

I had another free period after algebra while Alex had one more class. The college had a sick rec center behind it that was new and super fancy and cheap if you were enrolled in so many credits. I wasn’t a workout buff or anything, but I liked to swim. 

I just did laps; nothing fancy. Swimming helped with all my stupid anxiety since I didn’t use anymore. Alex told me I should sign up for a class to get some credit hours out of it, but having to do what someone else said was not my idea of unwinding. Besides, I had set up a great routine. 

History or algebra didn’t matter; I knew I had some free time at the end of the day while Alex was in class. So I went to the rec center and swam for an hour, sat in the sauna for just a few (I knew it was good for me, but I didn’t like the heat), and then met up with this guy. Again, I was pretty “sexually active.” This guy Mike and I had met up once or twice a week at the college last semester, just take the edge off, you know? I was eager to pick up the habit again. Unlike me, he was a gym rat and he spent all afternoon in the rec center like a freak. But I'd tell him when I would be free and he would meet me in the showers and we’d have a quickie.

The problem, however, was that day I couldn’t stop picturing Alex. Mike was built nothing like him, acted nothing like him, looked nothing like him, but the entire time we were together all I could picture were coal black eyes and skinny brown limbs and how he might sound if I touched him.


	3. Chapter 3

“Fucking sick,” Alex muttered as animated blood splashed around the screen. He exhaled slowly, letting the sweet smell of marijuana fill the air. 

“Bet,” I murmured back, reaching for the pipe. He passed it to me and I blazed it, even though I was already high. We were watching this Netflix anime, Devilman Crybaby. I didn’t really like it, but it was kind of fun to get stoned to since it was so fucking weird. Alex loved it because he was into strange shit.

We were sprawled on my brother's ancient couch, feet propped up on the coffee table and junk food scattered around us. My right knee was just pressed against Alex's left one and it was more distracting than I wanted it to be. 

That desire to kiss Alex, to feel his pierced tongue against mine, hadn't gone away at all. There was a part of me that wasn't bothered by the thought, but there was definitely a part that was. 

I was an addict, after all. I couldn't help but wonder if I was actually into Alex or if I was now just into anything that was willing. I mean, that was kind of my deal anyway, but now I was getting into my friends? And I didn't even know if he _was_ willing. Was that the line between being a slut and being an addict? You'd think I'd know, but I made a mental note to Google it later. 

The TV was all screams and blood flying everywhere, making nasty wet sounds. I didn't even know what the fuck was going on, but Alex seemed hooked. He wasn’t even texting his only other friend, Maya, who lived in San Antonio. 

It was probably pretty weird, since he was such a freak, but being around Alex made me feel closer to “normal.” Honestly most of my days were just spent white-knuckling it. My brain was always spinning behind my eyes, running through a million different things. My counselor at the rehab I went to said I maybe started using because my anxiety was so bad, but I don't know. I wasn't all twitchy and shit; I just had all these things talking inside my head all the time and I didn't know how to shut them up without shutting down.

So it was chill with Alex because he was just a regular guy, you know? He went to school and had a job and liked weird shit and just kicked it. He didn't have this dark cloud always hanging over his head or this nagging _choice_ to make every day. He wasn't chained to a raging, beautiful dragon that wanted to drag him to both heaven and hell at the same time.

Alex left after we devoured a frozen pizza and finished a couple more episodes. The place felt empty without him and I was restless. I wasn't good at being alone. I turned on the Boondock Saints, an old favorite, threw some chicken nuggets in the oven, and paced around the double-wide, chain-smoking. 

I found myself alternating between quoting along with the movie and rapping bits of verses as they came to me, bouncing on my feet. On the one hand I desperately wished I had a car, but I also knew that, if I did have one, I'd be out looking for trouble right now. 

I definitely couldn't stay inside like this, though. I paused the movie and shrugged on my hoodie, pushing my way out of the trailer. I didn’t lock it behind me. Our community was tight-knit and my family had been on this lot forever. I knew that my neighbors would make sure no one invited themselves into my place. I pulled up Kendrick Lamar on my radio app and let Money Trees blast through the tiny speakers as I shoved my phone in my hoodie pocket. I usually couldn’t function without some kind of music around me. 

I lived near a busy intersection, and the hustle and chaos often calmed me down for some reason. I guess because whatever was going on inside me couldn’t compare. There was an Allsup’s across the street from me but I decided to hit up the Shell a little further down. I needed the walk and they had a better selection, though Allsup’s was my joint, straight up. 

I hated that I could be this wound up even though I’d blazed it with Alex just awhile ago. I was off heroin and refused to be on a methadone or Suboxone program. That shit was just the PG-version of heroin. I didn’t want it holding me back the rest of my life. I wasn’t about to trade one addiction for another after all my hard work, ya feel?

Well, smoking didn’t count. Cigs or weed. I had to have something. 

I picked up a Brisk, a new pack, and some chips at the Shell. I also bought two minis from behind the counter. I wasn’t technically 21 but the guy knew me. I let myself drink every now and then since I wasn’t addicted to alcohol and I needed something to chill me out. I had a strict limit, though, and usually only drank when I went down to Burque so I wasn’t the one sober loser in the club. 

Walking back home, I felt better already. I slammed the minis and dropped the bottles on the sidewalk so Zeke wouldn’t find out I’d bought them. When I got back home I put on some horror flick (Jigsaw, I think) and kicked it with my snacks. 

I felt better even though I hated how much effort it took just to be at this “normal” state. Why was it so hard to just relax?  
\--

Alex picked me up just after eight in the morning, which was way too early for my brain to function. He was always super awake and listening to his weird music and drinking the grossest coffee imaginable. Fucking morning people. 

“Hello sunshine.” He smirked at me as I practically fell in his car, hoodie pulled up over my wild hair.

“Fuck you,” I managed around a yawn. “And for the love of God run by a gas station before dragging me to class.” 

“Rough night?” Alex asked as he peeled away, merging smoothly into the hectic Cerrillos Road traffic. 

“I guess. Dunno why.” There was a lot I didn't like about being in recovery, but definitely one of them was that I had good days and bad days and usually whichever one was happening was out of my control. 

“Do you want to guess the terrible name of this band?” he offered, turning up the sound system just a little. 

Alex listened to a variety of rock; anything from heavy metal to super chill indie. He loved playing weird shit for me and making me guess the band names, which were usually hipster as fuck. Last week had been Ra Ra Riot. 

I rubbed my knuckles along my jaw, trying to come up with something stupid. “Fetuses on Parade.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “That sounds like a horror movie. Like something you’d watch.”

I couldn’t help but grin. He was right, of course. “What was that one stupid band? Snake Snake Rattlesnake?”

“Snake Rattle Rattle Snake!”

I laughed, stomping my foot. “ _Ala!_ ” We were still snickering when Alex pulled into the gas station and I swung myself out of his car. “You want anything?”

“I’m good, man.”

I got him some shit anyway. Like I said, dude was always starving. When I came back I tossed him a bag of Hot Cheetos and an Arizona Tea, interrupting what was probably a long text to Maya, keeping the Red Bulls and smokes for myself.

“The Night Terrors of 1927.”

I slammed half of a Red Bull before I even tried to figure that one out. “Say again?”

“That’s the band.” He grinned over at me. One of his canines stuck out more than his other teeth, which were more or less straight. “The Night Terrors of 1927.”

“Okay, but like at what point do you see that name and think, ‘Yo, these guys could be pretty good.’”

Alex laughed. “I heard the music first! Then I saw that name and I knew you’d love it.”

“But is it a reference to something?”

“You'd have to ask the band, now wouldn't you?”

We eventually found a parking space and made it to class. I flipped open my sketchbook as soon as we sat down and started to outline the new piece that was coming together in my head. Beside me, Alex absently scribbled in his own notebook. I knew he wrote sometimes, but he wouldn't let me read any of it. 

“You should think about art classes or something.“

I glanced over at Alex, whose dark eyes were tracing the pencil lines across my paper. It was some kind of beast surrounded in smoke at the moment. “Yeah right,” I snorted. “What good would those classes do me?” 

He looked up at me. “What good are these classes doing you?” 

I frowned as anger spiked in my chest. “Whatever, man.” I turned away from him and started to draw the occasional flame. 

We sat in silence through the rest of class, through the boring introductions and the reading of the syllabus. I ignored most of it, edging my drawing in darkness to make the monster appear more striking. 

It just pissed me off that Alex wasn't even wrong. I only cared enough about school to scrape a passing grade, and even then I would've probably quit last year had it not been for him. It just seemed like a big waste of time, but I didn't have any other bright ideas. At the moment it felt like I could either choose drugs or school, so I chose school. 

I’d told Zeke that I could work and pay bills if he wanted to hit up the college, but he was still working on his GED when he had the time. (He'd dropped out of school when he turned 18 to work full-time.) Also he had this weird “older brother” thing going on where he felt like he had to look out for me. The whole heroin-addiction deal had only made it worse.

God I was so sick of my own head. I took off halfway through class, ignoring Alex's look, and went outside to claim a picnic table and smoke and work on my own shit.

I was much calmer when Alex showed up like half an hour later, bearing an armful of snacks.

“I'm sorry, man,” he told me, straight up. “That was a dick thing to say.” 

I crushed my latest cigarette out, sighing. “Nah. You were right. I don't even know why I'm here most of the time. It's not like I care about any of this shit or like it's gonna do me any good.”

Alex shrugged, dark eyes serious. “Well it can't hurt, right?” 

I dunno how he managed to say stuff that made me feel better even though it wasn't necessarily thoughtful or positive. Or maybe that was why; it wasn't just optimistic bullshit.

“I'm skipping the next class,” I warned him. I pulled my sharpie out of the pocket of my hoodie, ready to trace over my new piece. 

“I'll hang with you,” he replied, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a book. Something with an orange cover. 

I was a little surprised. Alex tended to be pretty serious and didn't like to miss class. “It's cool, man.”

He smiled a little. “Yeah, I know.”

I turned back to my art, feeling oddly flustered. Underneath the table, Alex's feet rested up against my own. I shifted a little so he definitely knew they were there, but he didn't move. 

Between the outside air and drawing and the food and Alex, the storm in my head was finally starting to fade a bit. And I felt okay again.


	4. Chapter 4

Time marched on and my number of sober days increased, both the good and the bad. 

Nothing really big changed, but Alex and I definitely started flirting. Kind of. Everything stayed the same but also became _more_. We found excuses to touch; knees and shoulders pressed together, lingering claps on shoulders, that sort of thing. Basically we were letting the other know that “Yeah, sure, this could be more,” without actually doing anything. 

Not to be a loser about it, but Alex was pretty much my only friend. Like, I knew other people, but he was the one I spent all my time with other than my brother. I didn’t want us to hook up a few times and then have him get all awkward on me. I was basically waiting on him, wanting to see what he’d do, if anything. 

As far as I knew the only other person he regularly talked to was Maya. Alex had told me that they’d grown up together but now she was in school down in San Antonio. He was always texting her, but it was good. I couldn’t be the only human being he ever talked with.

I kept going to Albuquerque on the weekends and Target when I was scheduled and class when I felt like it and selling small amounts of bud on the side. I did all my usual shit while this little thing between me and Alex kept flaring up here and there, usually dying right back down. 

Fall moved along and I mostly only noticed because I loved the weather while Alex hated it. I was into that crispness of the air and how the days got shorter and everyone started dressing in layers just like I did all year long. Fall was the rainy season in Santa Fe, which meant that the air got all sweet even as the arroyos flooded and the nights got colder. 

Alex, the desert creature that he was, hated all of it. I always teased him that he needed to move to Los Alamos or Phoenix; someplace that never got below 80 and where the sun was brutal all year long. 

“I’m not complaining,” he told me adamantly one day as we stood outside, fists shoved into his sweatshirt pockets. “I’m stating a fact: it is cold.”

“The fact is that you’re a baby,” I laughed. Because here was thing: I was just having a smoke. Alex could’ve waited for me inside no problem. It felt good though, having him outside with me even though he hated it. Maybe that made me a fucked up person. 

“It’s like 65 degrees out, Raz.”

“I know! It feels amazing!” I felt so good and so happy right then, especially since I was planning on skipping algebra again. “C’mere.” I leaned into Alex, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and hugging him close. He turned, pressing his face into my collarbone and making my insides light up. “You coming over for Thanksgiving?” I asked, trying to distract myself. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled without moving his head. “Next weekend?” 

My brother and I always worked on holidays to get extra money, so we’d pushed our dinner back to Saturday. Not that it was going to be anything fancy, but it would be nice to just hang out for awhile. “Yeah. Your fam isn’t doing anything, right?”

“Nope. Not that weekend, anyway.”

I sucked down the very last of my smoke and tossed it, letting the wet pavement put it out. “Okay, I’m done.”

Alex turned right out of my hold and basically ran back inside, which made me laugh and want to chase him, but I didn’t.  
\--

I met him at the cafeteria later in the day with a couple of sandwiches. He’d been out of class for a whole ten minutes, so of course his nose was already buried in a book. “That for class?” I asked as I sat at the table with him, nodding at the blue cover. It had a big tree I wanted to draw in my own style and it said _The Buried Giant._

He glanced up at me, blinking back to reality. “Just for fun.”

“Freak. Do you like it so far?” 

Alex hated being asked what books were about if he hadn't finished them yet. If questioned, he would usually respond with something along the lines of “I'll let you know when I figure it out.” 

“It's okay,” he responded, setting it down and slipping his beanie off his head to run a hand through his messy mohawk. “It's not as good as I thought it would be. The author is really famous, but this is the first thing I've read by him. I'm not incredibly impressed.” 

I wasn't a reader, but I loved hearing Alex talk about books. “What's next on the list?” 

“Not sure.” He raised in eyebrows in response to my look of surprise. “This is my last book! Wanna go to the library with me later?” 

“I guess,” I grumbled around a mouthful of turkey and cheese. He knew the answer was always yes when it came to him. 

We lounged around for awhile before packing up and heading across campus to the library. I hung out and chatted with the terribly attractive (unfortunately married) librarian while Alex browsed the shelves. I found myself idly watching him, the way he frowned a little and absently played with his lip piercings as he looked for material that caught his interest.

Eventually he came up to the desk with five books, the maximum he could check out. “Hey.” He greeted Anna quietly, even though he saw her at least a couple of times a month. He was so open with me I forgot how antisocial he was with everyone else. 

“ _Buenos dias,_ ” she beamed at him. “Just these?”

“ _Si._ ” He pulled out his student ID for her to scan. It wasn't like Alex was shy. He was just… awkward. And hated people. 

“You two have a lovely day,” Anna told us, not bothering to tell him when they were due. They'd be back before then anyway.

“You, too,” Alex mumbled.

“See you later!” I called, following him out. “Hope your dog gets better soon!” 

“Thanks, Raz!”

“Her dog?” Alex asked as we made our way back outside. I took the opportunity to light up.

“I guess he got bit by some other dog at the park. Had to get a few stitches in his muzzle. It's amazing what you learn when you actually talk to people.”

Alex tsked, shrugging off his backpack to shove the books into. “Shut up, Raz.” 

I actually went with him to our last class, not that I paid attention, and then he dropped me off at work so I could cashier for a couple of hours. Target was close enough to my place that I just walked home after my shift, stuffing that hideous red shirt in my bag along with a small bag of cat food. 

There was this big old tom that hung around the park. He yelled all damn night if someone didn’t feed him, so I usually put some kibble out in a bowl. He was huge and gray with chunks missing out of his ears and one eye mostly scarred over, but he liked me. Or at least that I fed him. 

And just like that, my good day turned into a bad one. And I wasn’t even doing anything other than sitting on the ground, letting that tom rub against my knees, and having a cigarette when all of the sudden the need to use just fucking punched through my chest. 

I was halfway through texting a dealer I used to know before common sense caught up with me. “Fuck,” I breathed, quickly deleting what I’d written. I didn’t even have the guy saved in my phone anymore, but I knew his number by heart. And, if not his, I knew plenty of others. I felt like I couldn’t breathe as I pulled up my contacts and called my brother. 

“Answer, Zeke, goddamnit,” I muttered as the phone rang on and on. I got up and started to pace, completely unable to stand still. Eventually it went to voicemail, so I tried again. It was only 11 o’clock; where was he?

I kept smoking even though I felt dizzy, half-hoping I would hyperventilate and pass out and then I wouldn’t have to deal with this shitty feeling anymore. I fucking hated myself for ever shooting up in the first place. I hated my mom for getting me into it and for my shitty genetics and all my bad choices and how easily I could get it, really, I could just walk down the _fucking street…_

I opened my left hand and ground the cherry of my cigarette into it, hissing at the burn, focusing on the pain. I tossed the butt aside and called Alex. 

“Raz?” His voice came through after the second ring, soft and confused. I rarely called him, especially at night.

My throat closed up. “Uh, hey!” I managed to choke out. I knelt on the ground, grinding my knuckles into the pavement, trying to keep myself from rocking back and forth like a psycho. I was going to fall the fuck apart. “You- you weren't sleeping, were you?” 

“What's wrong?” he asked, ignoring me. He was talking in that way people have when they don't want to wake anyone else up. Did he have folks over at his apartment? Did he know other people?

“I just- uh.” My voice was doing weird things as I tried to find a normal tone. “I'm not, like, doing so great right now, man. And I'm sorry if I'm calling you when you're busy but my brother isn't picking up and- and I'm just really… I'm really jonesing for a hit right now.” Understatement of the year, but there were no words to describe this kind of need. I was going to turn inside out if I didn’t get some kind of opiate in my system _right now._

“I'm coming over.” I could hear some people in the background. Where the hell was he? “Raz. Do you want me to bring you a Sub?” 

I swear I almost passed out in relief at the mention of it. “God yes. Yes, please.” 

“Keep trying your brother. I'll be there in ten.” The line went dead.

I was losing my shit in the middle of the trailer park. I used that shame to get me up on my feet long enough to get into the house, where I paused at the threshold and blearily looked around. I needed a rig. 

I tried to keep my mind focused on simple tasks. Shut the door. Clear the coffee table. Cigarettes and lighter. Grab a spoon. Grab a cup of water. Had it been ten minutes yet? What if he wasn’t actually at his apartment? What if he was even further away? Oh god how long would it take Alex to get here?

I called Zeke again. Voicemail. 

_Walk._ I counted my steps as I paced, except my numbers bounced all over the place, doing whatever they wanted. I scratched at my palms and the insides of my elbows, digging my nails in as hard as I could. One two three four fourteen sixteen eighteen twenty twenty twenty ten where was Alex no focus twenty twenty-one twenty-two… 

I think I got lost in my head for a little while. Next thing I knew Alex was in front of me, grabbing my hand to shove a thin packet and a syringe in it. They pressed against the fresh burn on my palm, the pain helping me focus.

I gripped the supplies and rose to my feet, sliding my belt off on my way to the couch. This process I could do half-dead. Belt around my bicep, the right arm where I still had some good veins. Get a spoonful of water. Open the strip of Suboxone. Add it to the spoon. Tighten the belt until I can hear my own heartbeat. Uncap the syringe. Use the needle to mix up the Sub and dissolve it. Suck it all up. Flex my first, find that nice fat vein hanging under the crook of my elbow. Needle in, drawback to check for blood, slam it home.

Contrary to what most junkies say, Suboxone won't get you high. The most it'll do is calm you down a little, but between that, the prep, and the shooting up, your brain wants to believe you just gave it some sweet shit. Doctors will tell you it’s more about the needle than the actual drug. 

I sighed and sank back into the couch, clumsily releasing my belt so I wouldn’t get a dead arm. I knew I wasn't doing myself any favors by shooting up a Sub, but when I got like that I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know how to stay sane. 

I glanced over at Alex, who had sat beside me on the couch, his brow gently furrowed over his dark eyes. “Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” I mumbled back. The franticness was ebbing away, leaving something stiller and darker in its wake. “Thanks.”

He shrugged it off. “I'm glad you called.” 

I couldn't help but scoff a little. “Are you?”

He frowned harder. “What the fuck, of course I am. Why would you say that?” 

I shrugged easily, dropping his gaze. “Just waiting for you to get tired of my shit sooner or later.” I was sick of myself; I didn’t know how Alex could stand it some days. He ignored me, reaching forward to take the syringe, but I jerked it away. “Don’t, man!”

Alex rolled his eyes at me. “It’s not like you have Hep C or something. You’ve been tested a million times.”

“It’s still stupid,” I hissed at him, reaching forward to grab the top and capping the needle myself, tossing it on the coffee table afterwards. “Fuck, Alex.” 

His eyes were on my hand as he reached forward again. Now that I didn’t have a sharp object in it, I let him touch his dark fingers to my palm, at the edge of the small burn. 

I leaned back into the couch, letting that darkness wash over me again. I felt sick with how much I hated myself. 

“Wanna watch some Netflix?” he asked after a few moments, looking back up at me. His hand was still in mine, though just barely. “I found a movie you’ll both love and hate.”

I shrugged a little, unable to meet his eyes. “Sure.” 

I watched distantly, kind of feeling like I was hovering out of my body, as Alex put all my shit away, grabbed my comforter from my bed and threw it on the couch, then used my Xbox to pull up Netflix and some foreign thriller called the Babadook.

“The fuck are you making me watch?” I mumbled. 

“You’ll either love it or love to hate it,” he reassured me, starting the film and arranging the blanket across our laps. The heaviness of it felt good. Alex leaned against my shoulder and that felt even better. 

I let someone else’s fictional horror distract me from my own.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing different versions of this story for a long time and would love any feedback! I'm doing a lot of little things to challenge myself, but hopefully it doesn't show up too obviously in my writing.
> 
> Tags will be added along with chapters, mostly not to spoil everything. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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